


To Burn, To Shine

by Scrawlers



Series: Paradigm Shift [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drama, Emperor Lotor, Established Relationship Keitor, Family, Gen, General, Kidfic, M/M, there is a biological link - but no mpreg, there is no mpreg in this fic I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 21:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Two years have passed since Zarkon's death and Lotor's ascension to the throne. The galactic federation is not yet in full swing, but two years of restoration, diplomacy meetings, a zero tolerance policy for those who wished to uphold Zarkon's ways, and the absence of Haggar have done wonders to bring stability. But being out of the public view is not the same as being gone, and Haggar makes her presence known when Ezor, Narti, and Zethrid discover a child—a child with stark white hair, grey-purple eyes, and an odd affinity for quintessence—in one of the abandoned facilities on Revender. The war may have calmed, but that does not mean it is over.





	To Burn, To Shine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place a good handful of years into the future of the Paradigm Shift reality. To that end, Keith, Lotor, and the girls are all in their mid-twenties. Ezor is probably around 24/25; Keith, Lotor, Acxa, and Narti are around 25/26; and Zethrid is around 26/27.
> 
> Nyx is what I decided to name Keith’s wolf companion, whom he partners with under different circumstances in this reality, and I also decided to name her species lunys, since it doesn’t make sense that a bunch of aliens would know what a “wolf” is. (Also doesn’t make sense that they’d know what a “lion” is, but we’re a bit past that now.) Oh, and I decided that she’s a girl, so there’s that, too.

The shivery bumps that rippled across Ezor’s skin as she entered one of Revender’s many abandoned research facilities had little, she knew, to do with the fact that the pace was so chilly her breath misted in front of her.

Revender was deserted—completely empty, and “deserted” probably wasn’t even the right word for it. It wasn’t so much that people had jumped ship as it was that they were  _made_ to leave after Lotor became emperor. The facilities were shut down, and the people in the slums were moved to nicer planets. The victims who were  _in_ the facilities at the time were taken to hospitals until they’d recovered enough to live peacefully somewhere else. Revender was now nothing more than a hunk of rock floating out in space, one that most agreed was better off forgotten.

But a movement ago, they had received reports about something strange: activity had been detected from at least one of the facilities on Revender, if not more. Several quintants of research later, and here Ezor was, joined by Narti, Kova, and Zethrid as they made their way into the facility that was giving off the strongest signals. A thick layer of dust slightly muffled their footsteps as they made their way down a dark corridor, the beams from their flashlights highlighting the cobwebs stretched into corners, and scuffs and scratches along the walls.

“Man, this place is  _creee-py_ ,” Ezor said, as she kicked her foot against three long scratch marks near the base of the wall to her left. “I’m starting to see why the others didn’t want to come.”

The special sensors that the olkari had upgraded their paladin helmets with buzzed lightly against Ezor’s ear a tick before Narti’s response drifted across her mind:  _‘I do not believe that was the reason.’_

Ezor sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

 _‘However,’_ Narti added, _‘I agree with your opinion of this place.’_

Ezor grinned.

When it came time to decide who would make the journey to Revender, there hadn’t been very much debate. Lotor was too busy to make the journey given the preparations he had to make for the meeting with the altean delegation. Keith had said that he would go, but he did so with the reluctance of someone who was volunteering to be the first victim shot on a firing squad. And even before he finished saying he would go, Acxa had shut him down, saying that he wouldn’t go, and neither would she. In the end, that just left Ezor, Narti, and Zethrid. And given that none of  _them_ had any history with Revender (and that Narti had even gotten a cat out of the place), none of them had put up an argument.

But as she made her way down a mostly silent corridor now, her reflection visible even in the grime that caked the small windows inserted into the top of each door, Ezor was starting to regret it.

“Do you really think there could be someone still alive in this place?” she wondered aloud, and she made a face at her own reflection as she passed another dirt-encrusted glass pane.

 _‘That is what the sensors said,’_ Narti said, and Kova loosed a low croon of agreement.

“Yeah, but this place is so . . . ick,” Ezor said, and she swung her flashlight up to the ceiling. Large, rectangular lights were slotted into each ceiling panel, and as her flashlight roved over them she saw tiny outlines of insect corpses bunched up in the bulbs. “Might’ve been better with lights on, though. More lights, less dead bugs.”

“Nah, doubt it. This place was never good,” Zethrid said, speaking up for the first time in a while. She had been pretty quiet even on the way over, which had left Ezor to fill the gaps in her silence, and when Ezor looked back over her shoulder now, she saw that Zethrid was staring at the ceiling with a strange sort of grimace on her face. After a tick, Zethrid seemed to feel Ezor watching, for she looked back and gave a wry smile as she said, “You know, when I first met you, I was gonna sell you guys to this place.” She paused, then glanced at Narti and said, “Not you, Narti. We didn’t know you yet.”

 _‘I reasoned as much,’_ Narti said.

“Thanks for not,” Ezor said dryly, and Zethrid shrugged, her smile becoming a bit more genuine. Ezor grinned in turn. “’Course, it wasn’t really up to you, seeing as how I totally whooped you.”

 _That_ wiped the smile from Zethrid’s face. She scowled. “Excuse you?”

“You should’ve seen me, Narti, I was awesome,” Ezor said. She mimed pulling a blaster from her belt, and held it in front of her. “Zethrid got out of her ship, like this, and she threatened to shoot Lotor, Keith, and Acxa if they didn’t surrender. But before she could,  _shwing_!” Ezor whipped the Blue Bayard from her belt, and in a moment it was a curved knife, which she held against the throat of an invisible prisoner before her. “I had a knife to her throat, just like this. It was awesome. She never even saw me coming.”

“You were  _invisible,_ ” Zethrid growled, and Ezor nodded proudly. “And I could have taken you out any time. I just didn’t think you were worth it.”

“Uh-huh. Suuuuure,” Ezor said, and she grinned wider in the face of Zethrid’s bared teeth. “Anyway, it’s a good thin—”

_‘Kova!’_

Despite the telepathic link through their helmets, Ezor barely heard Narti as Kova loosed an earsplitting yowl and leaped off her shoulder. He took off at a sprint the moment his paws hit tile, his dark fur quickly lost to the shadows ahead as he tore down the hall.

By this time they had reached a cross-section in the corridor; the wall continued on their right, heading straight down a long stretch of inky blackness, but there was a smaller hall to their left that would allow them to continue down the other side. Before Kova had his tantrum and decided to sprint straight ahead, Ezor had been planning to suggest they go left. But Kova made their choice for them; the moment he took off Narti barreled after him, and with both Narti and Kova making their way straight down the hall, Ezor and Zethrid had no choice but to run after.

“What the hell is his  _problem_?” Zethrid demanded. “This is why you should get a leash for him, Narti. I’ve been saying for decaphoebs—”

 _‘I think he—’_ Narti’s words cut off as suddenly as her sprint. She stumbled to an abrupt stop, one hand raised so that her fingers graced her temple, her head bowed in concentration. Ezor had been doing her best to follow, but when Narti stopped she had to skid to a halt herself, which placed her a few paces ahead. She turned back as Zethrid, who had been deliberately restraining her pace to not overtake them, caught up and waited just behind Narti.

A few ticks of silence passed. Narti remained still, fingers to her temple, tail low. Ezor glanced over her shoulder, down the dark hallway. She couldn’t see anything down there, and when she cast her flashlight beam down ahead of her, the dust and dirt particles in the air were thick enough to make it look like fog. She turned back, frowning, and said, “Hey, Nar? We’re going to lose him—”

 _‘No,’_ Narti said, and she started forward again as loud, demanding meows began to slice through the silence of the corridor again. This time, Narti didn’t run, but her stride was purposeful as she pulled the Green Bayard from inside her cloak. Eying this, Zethrid slipped the Yellow Bayard from its own holster on her hip.  _‘He’ll stay put now. Follow me.’_

Narti led the way down the corridor at a brisk walk, her tail tense even as the tip swished from side to side. She sensed something, that much was clear—it was clear the second she had stopped, hand to her head. But  _what_ she sensed, beyond Kova’s godawful screeching, was lost on Ezor. The facility seemed deserted—empty, barren. There was nothing and no one there. Ezor’s sensors didn’t detect anything, even when she tapped it with the tip of her Bayard.

Kova’s yowling grew louder with each step they took, and by the time they finally found him before a door, pawing at it with both of his front paws, Ezor’s ears were hurting. Narti said not a word as she bent down to pick him up, and even as she hoisted him in the air he stretched out his front legs as far as they would go, waving his paws fruitlessly in an effort to reach the door.

“He’s acting like he does when he wants in the quintessence storage,” Ezor said, raising her voice to be heard over Kova’s crying. “Think there’s some in there?”

 _‘No,’_ Narti said, as she placed Kova on her shoulder. He immediately threw himself off again and went back to the door, and this time Narti didn’t bother to move him. Instead, she activated her Bayard, and in a flash it formed the same three long, claw-like blades it always did for her.  _‘There is something alive in that room.’_

“Some _thing_?” Zethrid repeated, her own Bayard forming a large gun.

Narti nodded.  _‘At least.’_

Zethrid took a deep breath and released it in a loud exhale. “Time to find out what, then,” she said, and she threw a glance Ezor’s way as she cocked her gun. “You ready?”

Ezor nodded, and raised her own Bayard so that its blade caught a glint off Zethrid’s flashlight. “As always.”

“Good.” Zethrid flashed a grin. “Then let’s do it. Move, cat-ass.” She hooked her foot under Kova’s stomach, and even as he yowled louder and swiped at her boot with his claws, she tossed him over to the side by Narti’s feet. Before he even had a chance to turn around she kicked the door hard. The lock shattered, echoing down the corridor, and the door banged back against the inside wall.

 _‘I am sure the handle would have worked,’_ Narti said, disapproval thick in her tone.

“It was locked,” Zethrid countered.

_‘We have tools that could unlock it.’_

“This was faster, and more fun.”

Narti sighed.

Agreeing with Zethrid, but not wanting to say so in front of Narti, Ezor squeezed between Zethrid’s arm and the door frame so that she could enter the room first. At first, it was hard to focus on any one thing; she blinked several times to force her eyes to adjust as her flashlight beam swept over metal countertops that lined the walls, a medical cart dotted with various abandoned instruments, and an examination table jutting out from a back corner. But what caught her attention wasn’t any of those things, but what she thought was a spark of light in the back of the room, which flashed for only a moment as the door banged open. She moved her flashlight along the back wall, struggling to find it as Kova squirmed between her legs to enter the room (meowing all the while), and when she finally roved her flashlight along the base of the back wall, she saw—

Ezor blinked, and nearly dropped her flashlight to her side in slack surprise. “Huh.”

“What is it?” Zethrid swung her own flashlight to where Ezor’s had been a moment prior, and when she did, her eyes widened. “A kid?”

It was. It was a . . . kid, somehow. She—he?— _they_ were small, crouched down at the base of the wall, their knees drawn up against their chest. They were dressed in soft-soled, faded grey shoes, plain pants, and a long-sleeved shirt of matching colors, their arms wrapped tightly around their knees. From what she could see, their skin was light brown—a few shades darker than Keith’s—but what caught Ezor’s attention the most wasn’t their skin, but rather their hair and eyes.

Their hair was not quite short, and not quite long. The way they were huddled down around themselves, it looked like it would be about chin length, and choppy. But what was startling about it wasn’t the cut, but the color; it was stark white, so white it almost  _glowed_ under the beams of hers and Zethrid’s flashlights. And the kid’s bangs fell over their eyes, which were . . .  _familiar_ , somehow, in their grey-purple color and the way they were narrowed, but that—

Kova had brushed past her, and he was now purring, nuzzling his face against the kid’s knee. The kid jerked to push him away, and in response, Kova loosed an offended hiss. This was enough to startle the kid into moving; they scooted a few inches to the side, even as they kept their eyes on Ezor and the others. They didn’t so much as gasp, or make any other sound. But their movement was enough to knock loose the gears in Ezor’s head, and she took a few more steps into the room, closer to the kid, as she retracted her Bayard’s blade and holstered it again.

“Hey—”

That was all it took.

The kid slapped one hand against the floor, and when he did another bright, white-purple flash of light sparked from the contact. Kova shrieked loudly again, and Ezor reflexively squeezed her eyes shut as Zethrid swore. When Ezor next forced her eyes open, it was in time to see the kid dart past her; they crouched low enough so that she failed to grab them as they squeezed by, and this time it was  _her_ turn to swear as they took off down the dark hallway.

“Hey! Come back here!” she yelled.

The kid, of course didn’t listen, but they didn’t have to. Although they kept running, the moment they left the room, Narti was on them. She ran along the right wall, vaulting easily over them; and though the kid stumbled and tried to flee back in the other direction the moment she landed in front of them, Narti spun and snapped her tail around their waist. She lifted them easily in the air, and though the kid struggled for a moment—a moment in which their bright white hair fell in a disarray over their pointed ears—it took only a few ticks for them to go limp in Narti’s hold.

“Did you knock them out?” Ezor asked, as Kova trotted out of the room (meowing loudly once again) and wove his way around Narti’s legs.

 _‘No. I only calmed them. See?’_ Narti lifted them a bit higher so that their eyes were once again visible, half-open and less alert.  _‘They’re awake. Although . . .’_

“Although?”

Narti was quiet a moment, then shook her head.  _‘Nevermind.’_

Ezor frowned. “What’s that sup—?”

“He.”

Ezor blinked, and turned back to see Zethrid stepping out of the room, a small medical tablet in hand. She was staring at the screen, rather than at Ezor or Narti, but she came to a stop beside Ezor regardless.

“He, what?” Ezor asked.

“He him,” Zethrid answered, and she looked up to nod toward the kid Narti held in her tail. “He’s male according to this, if this is his, and I think it is. Description matches up.” Zethrid closed the distance between herself and Narti, and grasped the kid’s chin between her fingers so she could turn his face this way and that. After a tick, she smirked a little. “I can see the resemblance.”

“Resemblance to  _who_?”

“You can’t tell?” Zethrid asked, and when Ezor scowled at her, she chuckled and tossed the tablet over. Ezor caught it after a brief fumble. “Take a look for yourself.”

Ezor scrolled back up to the first page of the file, and bit back a groan. It was filled with scientific and medical jargon. “Genome replication” this and “biorhythm” that. It was enough to make her eyes feel like they were spinning, like she couldn’t concentrate on just one thing, but she forced herself to read from the top, figuring that if Zethrid could figure it out, then she could, too.

“Designation: LK-999. Sex: Male,” she read beneath her breath, scanning down the list of contents. “Biological Age of Specimen: Approximately nine decaphoebs. Parent DNA . . .” She froze, her eyes wide, reading over the names a second, third, and fourth time. Finally, she looked up to find Zethrid grinning broadly at her, and when their eyes met she breathed, “No  _way_.”

“C’mon,” Zethrid said. “Let’s get this one back to the castle.”

**\- - -**

On most days, there were few places Keith felt more at ease than in his and Lotor’s bedroom. Located in one of the back wings of the Castle of Lions, their room was far enough away from the main hustle and bustle of activity in the castle to wall them off from it, and the fact that others rarely visited them there meant that it felt like their own private pocket of the universe. This was why, despite the fact that it was pretty big, it felt cozy; Keith could sprawl back on their bed, close his eyes, and feel his tension melt away most of the time. If Lotor was lying beside him, all the better.

That was most days. That was not today.

Today he was seated on the edge of their bed, one foot on the mattress while he fought against the urge to tap his other foot to channel his tension into the floor. He resisted the urge, but only barely.

“I just don’t see why we have to have an entire meeting for this. We tell them ‘no,’ that means ‘no,’” he said, and he spread his arms apart, palms up over his lap. “End of story.”

Whatever stress Keith felt, outwardly, Lotor didn’t show it. He stood across the room from Keith, in front of the wardrobe they stored their most commonly worn outfits in, tying his hair into a braid. He’d already changed into “non-armor” he used for public appearances; royal blue and bearing their crest, it looked peaceable enough, but was padded underneath just in case things went awry. He wasn’t facing Keith, his attention instead on the mirror hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door as he fixed his hair, but Keith caught sight of his smile in the reflection of the mirror.

“You have many strengths, Keith, but I’m afraid diplomacy is not one of them. Negotiations are never that simple.”

“They should be,” Keith said, and he curled his fingers into fists even as Lotor shook his head, his smile growing. “They may not like it, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to hear it. I don’t trust them with Voltron.”

“And they may not leave with Voltron, no matter what they intend. Regardless, if they do, we have Sincline. That  _is_ why we built it.”

“. . . Still.” Keith frowned. “It’s not just about what they could do with Voltron. It’s also about the Lions. I don’t feel comfortable just handing them over. Nothing says they’d listen to new Paladins, and I think Red would rather kill than be separated from Acxa.”

“I’m inclined to agree, but again, it may not come to that.”

Lotor tied off his braid with a small silver clasp and closed the wardrobe doors before he turned to face Keith. When he did, his smile fell, and before Keith could question it, Lotor asked, “Are you planning to change?”

It was Keith’s turn to frown as he glanced down at his paladin armor. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing ordinarily. But for a diplomacy meeting, it is a bit . . . plain, considering your status,” Lotor said, and Keith rolled his eyes. “Aside from which, considering the subject of said meeting, that armor could aggravate tensions.”

“Tensions that wouldn’t  _exist_ if they’d just  _listen_ ,” Keith muttered.

Once again, a ghost of a smile flickered across Lotor’s face. “I believe we could all benefit from a bit more listening on  _both_ sides.”

Keith’s frown fell into a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Lotor said airily, and he closed the distance between them so that he could take Keith’s hands in his, pulling him up from the bed. The tick Keith was on his feet, Lotor wrapped his arms around his waist. “Only that I cherish you with my entire being.”

Even after all these decaphoebs, Keith felt something light and bubbly spring to life in his chest, a warm flush spreading up his neck and into his cheeks. But as floaty as that feeling was, he didn’t want to let Lotor get away with what he was  _so obviously_ doing, so he maintained eye contact as he said, “You’re side-stepping me.”

“Am I?” Lotor asked, and rather than wait for a response he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth.

“Yes,” Keith said, and sputtered a laugh as Lotor’s lips traced the ticklish spot behind his ear. He felt Lotor smile against his skin. “C’mon—”

Loud, sharp beeping from the communicator on Keith’s wrist broke through not only his half-hearted protest, but the moment. Lotor drew back as Keith lifted the communicator between them, and with the sigh in his voice as restrained as he could make it, Keith hit the button to accept the transmission in the same beat he said, “What’s up?”

 _“We’re ba-ack!”_ Ezor sang, and Keith could have rolled his eyes for how  _predictable_ it was that  _Ezor_ was the one to interrupt them. Lotor’s twitching lips told Keith he was thinking the same thing.  _“And we’ve got someone with us_ you’re  _going to want to meet. You should come to the lounge. Bring Lotor.”_

“Some _one_?” Keith asked, in the same beat that Lotor asked sharply, “Who is it?”

 _“That’s a surprise,”_ Ezor said.

“Good surprise, or bad surprise?” Keith asked.

_“Hey, how’d Lotor answer so fast? Are you two together?”_

_“Of course they are,”_ Zethrid chimed in, her voice farther away.  _“No doubt they were getting some hanky-panky in while we were gone.”_

Over the decaphoebs, the teasing about his and Lotor’s relationship had lost much of its effect. By now, Keith was used to Zethrid’s suggestive comments about time they spent together in the Black Lion’s cockpit, or Ezor’s sing-songs about their “date nights.” But whether it was because he was already wound up about the meeting the altean delegation, or because he wasn’t expecting it, Zethrid’s comment now made heat flare in his face as though he’d just leaned over an over-worked engine, and as a result he sputtered, “N- _No_ , we—we were getting ready for delegate meeting!”

 _“Oh, so_ that’s  _what you’re calling it now,”_ Zethrid said.

 _“Well, Lotor’s emperor now. They have to make it sound official_ ,” Ezor said.

_“Makes sense.”_

“ _Any_ way,” Keith said loudly, as both Ezor and Zethrid burst into laughter on the other end of the line, “you said you’d be in the lounge, right?”

 _“Yup, and we’re picking up Acxa on the way,”_ Zethrid said.  _“So when you and Lotor are decent, come meet us there.”_

“We’re ‘decent’  _no_ —great.” Keith heaved a frustrated sigh as Ezor cut communications, and he tossed his hands in the air. “They didn’t even let me finish.”

“They only tease in hopes it will rile you,” Lotor said.

Keith huffed. “It’s been decaphoebs. You’d think they’d give it a rest.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why doesn’t it rile  _you_?”

Lotor shrugged, a slow smirk unfurling on his lips. “Well, in this particular case, it isn’t as if they were exactly wro—”

“Nope,” Keith said, and he placed his entire hand over Lotor’s face. “Stop. Don’t. You’ll encourage them.”

“They aren’t even present,” Lotor said, his voice muffled by Keith’s palm.

“You never know with Ezor, and it doesn’t matter. Zethrid will know. She  _always_ knows.”

Lotor took Keith’s wrist in a gentle grasp, and pulled his hand back just enough so that he could press a kiss against Keith’s palm.

“Be that as it may,” he said, “I believe the strongest encouragement of all will be us delaying meeting them any longer. Shall we go?”

His mood regarding the upcoming altean delegation meeting and Zethrid’s and Ezor’s teasing aside, Keith felt the tension drain from him the moment Lotor’s lips touched his palm, and so he couldn’t help but smile a little as he nodded. “Yeah. Ready whenever you are.”

Lotor returned Keith’s smile in kind, and released Keith’s wrist only to gently take his hand. “Then let us go. Erebus?”

A low, reptilian croon answered Lotor’s call, and Keith started a bit, having forgotten (somehow) that Erebus was in the room. But he looked up to the installed rafters that lined the walls and crisscrossed the ceiling in time to see Lotor’s small vrensyr peer down at them, his scales inky black and his eyes as vividly purple as ever, before he flung himself over the edge and glided down to Lotor’s shoulder. He landed neatly on his perch, flaring his wings to keep his balance, and as Lotor scratched him beneath the chin, his scales shifted from abyss black to a lighter, stormy grey-blue.

Vrensyrs were draconic creatures that originally hailed from the planet Daibazaal, and were long thought to be extinct. While tiny upon first hatching, given enough centuries, vrensyrs were said to grow large enough to raze small planets. Erebus had only hatched about three decaaphoebs ago, after Lotor had miraculously found his egg in a black market crate, and so he was still small enough to ride on Lotor’s shoulder. His eyes were always a striking purple (darker in his slitted irises than the sclera), but his scales changed color depending on his whim. He grasped Lotor’s shoulder with the claws on his hindlegs, his long, spiked tail swishing down Lotor’s back, but if he wanted he could extend two additional legs from his chest. This, along with the two clawed appendages he had at the edges of his wings, the sharp fangs that lined his mouth, the fact that he could breathe fire, and the horns that crested his head, gave Erebus the potential to look pretty intimidating.

Of course, the way he crooned and nuzzled against Lotor’s cheek (as well as the fact that he usually kept his front legs retracted) somewhat ruined the effect.

“You sure it’s a good idea to bring him?” Keith asked, and when Lotor raised his eyebrows in question, elaborated, “Can’t imagine bringing a vrensyr to a delegate meeting will look very  _diplomatic._ ”

“Erebus is still a juvenile. He won’t cause any harm,” Lotor said, and this time he scratched Erebus behind his horns. Erebus thumped his tail against Lotor’s back, his eyes closed in happiness. “Besides,” Lotor added, smirking a little, “we may no longer live on Daibazaal, but this is now the home planet of the galra. It would be wise for all who visit here to remember that.”

Keith gave a muted laugh, stroked a finger down Erebus’ back (careful to avoid his spines), and said, “Fair enough,” before he tugged Lotor toward the door.

It had been nearly two decaphoebs since Lotor had taken the throne, and nearly one since the war had calmed enough for the Castle of Lions to be able to settle permanently on the planet Solvaren, and yet even now it felt strange to Keith to not feel the thrum of the engines beneath his feet as they made their way down the corridor. They had spent so many decaphoebs living in ships; first the cargo ship they had stolen from Revender, and then the Castle of Lions when they had finally found it. When they’d finally managed to settle on the long vacant planet of Solvaren, it had taken him several movements to adjust—to be able to sleep without the gentle hum of engines, to be able to breathe easy without being in a vehicle constantly in motion. And that wasn’t even getting into the layout of the castle being different. When it functioned as a ship, everything was laid out horizontally, but when it was stationary it was vertical. That not only meant stairs, but it meant different corridors and layouts entirely. He and Lotor had lucked out, their room ending up in a back wing, but that didn’t change the fact that it took them all a while to adjust to the new layout, with Auxiliary Team Three members especially being vargas late to training sessions because they couldn’t figure out where the training room was with the new layout.

But as lucky as Keith felt it was that their room ended up farthest away from all centers of activity, that also meant that it was farthest away from the lounge. As a result, it took them a good handful of doboshes to reach the lounge, and when they did, the others were already gathered there. Acxa was standing nearest the door, her arms folded and a frown on her face that made a sense of foreboding swoop in Keith’s gut; Narti was perched on the back of the sofa, Kova on her lap; and both Ezor and Zethrid were standing on the other side of the coffee table, shoulders together as they faced the door. They were hiding something behind their back; Keith could sense it even before he laid eyes on them, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And whatever he sensed, he wasn’t alone; the moment he and Lotor entered the room, Erebus sat up straighter on Lotor’s shoulder, his head cocked to the side as he gazed at Ezor and Zethrid.

“Jeez,” Ezor said, before either Keith or Lotor had a chance to say anything, “took you guys long enough. Where were you?”

“In our room,” Lotor said.

Zethrid snorted. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

Keith glared at her. “We were getting ready for the delegate meeting. I told you.”

“Yeah, you look  _real_ ready,” Zethrid said, eying him up and down.

Once again, Keith looked down at his paladin armor, and when he saw nothing out of the ordinary on it (it wasn’t even  _scuffed_ ), he demanded, “What’s wrong with paladin armor? You’re all wearing yours!”

“ _We_ had a mission,” Zethrid said, gesturing between herself, Ezor, and Narti. “Can’t speak for Acxa, but  _we_ have a reason to be suited up.”

“I was running practice drills with Red,” Acxa said.

“There you go,” Zethrid said, and she gestured a hand Acxa’s way. “But  _you’re_ supposed to be meeting with the altean delegation, and you’re going to go looking like  _that_?”

“Since when are you the fashion police?” Keith demanded.

“Don’t have to be the fashion police to know you should look more official for an official meeting,” Zethrid said.

Keith tossed his hands in the air. “Is this really what you called us here for?”

“How could we call you here for that when we had no idea you were wearing your armor before you showed up?” Ezor asked, and before Keith could reply, she shook her head. “No, we have something—some _one_ to show you. But before we do, allow me to be the first to say congratulations.”

Keith furrowed his brow, and exchanged a look of confusion with Lotor.

“Might I ask what for?” Lotor asked.

Ezor and Zethrid glanced at each other, both grinning, before they stepped apart, and flourished their hands at what—or  _who_ , Keith guessed—they had been hiding behind their backs.

“Congratulations,” Zethrid said.

“It’s a boy!” Ezor added.

It—he—was a boy. That, Keith could see well enough for himself. The kid was short. He wasn’t even tall enough to reach Zethrid’s waist, and Keith felt that the top of his head would barely brush Keith’s own stomach. He was dressed, Keith noted with a roll of nausea in his gut, in the same clothes that all test subjects on Revender wore, his hands bunched up in the sleeves as he kept his arms tightly folded across his chest. His skin was light brown, his lips pressed into a frown, and his eyes were partially covered by the bright white bangs that fell across them. He was a kid, all right. And given where Ezor and the others had been and the clothes he was wearing, Keith could guess at what he’d gone through.

“Was he the only one there?” he asked.

“Yeah, but come to think of it, his name suggests there might’ve been more,” Ezor said, and she tapped her finger against her chin.

“That’s not his name,” Zethrid said, and when Ezor looked her way, added, “It’s his designation, like what all prisoners on Revender have. We still have to give him a name.”

“Oh,” Ezor said, and then her eyes lit up. “I vote Sasuke Jr.!”

“Wait,” Keith said, and he held up his hands in a ‘time out’ motion. “Why are  _we_ naming him? Shouldn’t we . . .” He looked back to the boy, who stared back at him with eyes that made an odd little jolt spike through his heart. He ignored it. “What’s your name? Your real one, not what they called you.”

The boy stared at him, and continued staring. His lips didn’t so much as twitch.

“He doesn’t talk,” Ezor said, and when Keith looked back to her, continued, “I tried asking him all sorts of questions on the way back, but nada. Not a peep.”

“And seeing as how he doesn’t talk and we can’t just call him a Revender designation, that means we have to name him,” Zethrid said. “Besides, it’s only right. He’s your kid.”

“What?” Keith said, and when neither Ezor nor Zethrid said ‘just kidding!’ and a glance at Acxa showed that she was frowning at him just as she had been before, Keith shook his head. “No he’s not.”

“Yeah, he is,” Ezor said, and she grinned more widely even as Keith shook his head again. “Yours and Lotor’s.”

“ _No_ , he’s not,” Keith repeated.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Keith. He cannot be our son, no matter the resemblance. It’s impossible,” Lotor said, and Keith felt a sense of relief that at least  _someone_ in the room was speaking sense. “Neither of us are miralean, Ezor.”

“We’re way past that,” Acxa said grimly, and she unfolded her arms to hold a small medical tablet out to them. Keith took it from her, but the moment his fingers secured around the edge, Kova meowed. Keith turned his eyes to Narti, who lifted her hands to sign since none of them were wearing their helmets, and in his distraction, Keith found himself relieved of the tablet by Lotor.

 _“Zethrid found that in the room where we found the child,”_ Narti explained, nodding her head toward the tablet Lotor now held.  _“It appears to be his file, and it marks both you and Lotor as the sources of the parent DNA that created him.”_

Keith understood each of the words Narti signed. After so many decaphoebs of practice, he could understand her sign language half asleep. But even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and only barely resisted the urge to ask her to repeat herself. He understood the words she signed. He knew what she was saying. But he couldn’t for the life of him make sense of what they meant—not when they were in that order, at least.

“So,” Keith said after a long moment, struggling to get the words out of his mouth. “You’re saying that he’s . . . he was . . .  _created_  . . . and he’s . . .”

“A homunculus,” Lotor said. Keith glanced over to see that Lotor was still scrolling through the medical tablet with narrowed eyes, his lips and brow in a tight scowl.

“Ooh, I saw an Earth anime about those once,” Ezor said.

“I don’t think this is the same thing,” Acxa said.

Ezor made a face at her. “How do you know? You never even watched that anime.”

“How did this happen?” Keith demanded, and he raised his voice to make it sound stronger. “Who—Who could have done this? Who made him?”

Lotor looked up from the tablet at long last, lightning in his eyes as he met Keith’s gaze. “Who do you think?”

Ice dropped into Keith’s gut, and he balled his hands into fists. “Are you sure?”

“There is no alchemist in the universe who would have the ability apart from myself, and I can assure you that he is not  _my_ creation,” Lotor snapped. He squeezed the medical tablet tightly before he flung it to the side, causing it to hit the floor with a sharp  _clack_ before it slid. The sudden sound caused Erebus to cry out, Kova to hiss with his fur standing on end, and the kid to jump, his eyes wide, his arms squeezing tighter than before.

“Hey, whoa, chill!” Ezor said, as Narti climbed over the back of the sofa to retrieve the tablet. “No need to start throwing things. What if you broke it?”

“My apologies,” Lotor said in a tight voice. “I did not intend to lose my temper. That was . . . rude of me.”

“I’ll say,” Ezor said. She glanced down to the kid, and smiled before she lightly tapped her knuckles against his head. “You okay down there, kiddo?”

Once again the kid jumped, and this time he took a step back from her, staring at her with eyes no less wide than before. He didn’t nod or shake his head, but Ezor’s smile fell into a frown all the same.

“We have . . . much to discuss,” Lotor said. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, he glanced at each of them in turn before his eyes settled on the kid. “It would be best to do so immediately, however . . .”

“I’ve got it,” Keith said, and as Lotor flashed him a grateful smile, Keith reached under his collar to retrieve the small, oval-shaped stone he kept on a cord around his neck.

To most, it was nothing more than a stone. It was deep blue in color, speckled with silver and green, with several holes over the top and on the back, and one more on the very edge. Those who noticed the holes might have thought it an instrument, and they weren’t entirely wrong, but the sounds it produced—sounds that were said to sound like ethereal howls, changed in pitch and tone depending on which holes were covered—could only be heard by one species in the universe. Keith slipped his fingers over three of the holes on top, his thumb on one on the back, and then put the mouthpiece against his lips as he blew. For a tick, nothing changed; the group of them stood there in silence, the kid’s eyes focused on Keith. But it only took another tick for the sound of claws against tile to sound out from the hallway, and for Keith’s lunys companion, Nyx, to sprint into the room.

“Hey, Nyx,” Keith said, unable to keep from smiling as he ran his hand over her head. Her mouth opened in a canine smile, and she pushed her head up under his palm. “I need you to do a favor for me. You see that kid over there?”

Nyx looked in the direction he pointed, her ears erect and her nose twitching as her eyes fell on the kid, and in that moment several things happened at once.

Nyx, without prompting or permission, vanished from under Keith’s palm, crossing the room in an instant as she teleported directly in front of the kid. The moment she appeared the kid stumbled back, his mouth open in silent alarm, but before anyone could do anything to assure him Nyx wasn’t a threat, he raised his hands and—

Every nerve in Keith’s body flared to life. His senses felt like they were on fire.

The kid held two knives in his hand, but they weren’t—they weren’t  _real_ , they weren’t  _actual_ knives. They glowed white-purple from hilt to tip, shimmering between his fingers. Nyx didn’t back down, but she lowered her head, her ears back as her tail went straight behind her. Her starry fur was standing on end, and Keith couldn’t blame her. The kid’s knives weren’t real knives, forged from metal under heat like every other weapon in the universe’s arsenal. They were—

“Are those what I think they are?” Acxa asked, her voice hushed. Keith nodded.

“Is it his?” Lotor asked in a low voice.

Keith shook his head. “I can’t tell, but I don’t know where else he would have gotten it from.”

“I see.” Lotor raised his voice, then, and said, “Put those away.” The kid glanced to him, and when he didn’t move from his defensive recoil, Lotor said more sharply, “Weapons down. There is no threat to you here.”

The kid hesitated only a tick more before he finally stood up straight, and opened his hands. At once, the weapons of pure quintessence he had formed dissipated, his hands glowing for only a moment before the light faded.

“Pretty,” Ezor said.

“Pretty creepy,” Zethrid said, and when the kid looked up at her, she forced a smile. “No offense.”

The kid didn’t reply.

“We’re going to step out into the hallway to talk,” Keith said, and when all eyes turned to him, he swept one finger around the room to indicate himself, Lotor, Acxa, Narti, Ezor, and Zethrid. “Nyx, can you keep an eye on him?” Nyx nodded, and Keith smiled at her. “Good. Uh . . .”

The kid stared at him, and an uncomfortable feeling shivered down Keith’s spine. As if sensing his discomfort, Ezor sighed and crossed her arms.

“See? This is why we have to name him. We can’t just call him ‘kid,’ or whatever his designation was on that medical chart.”

 _“LK-999,”_ Narti signed, after Kova meowed to get their attention.

“999. Kind of makes it sound like he was another in a long line,” Zethrid said, and she smirked. “Maybe you guys have 998 other kids somewhere out there in the universe.”

Keith grimaced. “Don’t say that.”

“Yeah, we just need to focus on their one kid for now,” Ezor said, and though Keith could tell from the look on Lotor’s face that he was thinking the same thing Keith was biting his tongue to keep from saying: that claiming they even had  _one_ kid was stretching it to breaking. “And this one kid needs a name, and I think that name should be Sasuke Jr.”

Keith rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “No.”

Ezor scowled at him. “Why not? Got any better names?”

“No,” Keith repeated, and as Ezor started to smirk triumphantly, he added, “but we’re not calling him Sasuke.”

Ezor rolled her eyes. “Of course we’re not calling him  _Sasuke._ We  _can’t_ call him Sasuke, because that’s what I named my kaltenecker.” She paused, and then flashed an apologetic smile at Narti. “Sorry.  _Our_ kaltenecker.”

 _“I am happy with Kova,”_ Narti signed, and she stroked a hand down his back to emphasize her point.  _“You can keep the kaltenecker.”_

Ezor looked back to Keith. “Anyway, that’s why we’re calling him Sasuke  _Jr_.”

“No,” Keith said for the third time, and as Ezor opened her mouth to argue, Acxa cut across her.

“Why don’t we name him Rex?”

“‘Rex’?” Keith repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“What kind of a name is  _Rex_?” Ezor demanded.

Acxa shrugged. “It’s short and simple.”

Kova meowed, and when they all looked her way, Narti signed,  _“But wouldn’t it be better for his name to be meaningful? Perhaps, since Keith and Emperor Lotor—“_

“Please do not call me ‘emperor,’” Lotor said.

_“—are his parents, his name could be a combination of theirs. We could call him Lokei, perhaps, or Keitor.”_

“Nah. You were on the right track, but you’re looking at it wrong,” Zethrid said. “We shouldn’t name him based on who his parents are. We should name him based on what he’s gonna  _do_. And that means we should call him  _Skullcrusher._ ”

“ _What_?” Keith said.

“Skullcrusher,” Acxa repeated flatly.

“Are you kidding me? He can’t crush skulls!” Ezor said.

“He can if we teach him!” Zethrid said, and she crouched down to look the kid in the eyes. “Hey, wanna come with Auntie Zethrid to learn how to crush skulls?”

“ _No_ ,” Keith said loudly, as the kid raised his eyebrows. Zethrid shot Keith a scowl. “We’re not—you know that’s not how we do things.”

“It’s how we do things  _sometimes_ ,” Zethrid countered.

“And ‘Skullcrusher’ isn’t a real name.”

“It’s a real name if you make it one. Besides, I don’t hear  _you_ suggesting anything.”

“My point exactly!” Ezor said.

Keith huffed a frustrated sigh. “That’s because I—it’s not important right now! What we need to do is—”

“Aether.”

Keith stopped short. He looked to Lotor, who was staring at the kid, who returned his gaze in kind.

“What?” Keith asked, after a moment of silence.

“Aether,” Lotor repeated. He stared at the kid for a moment more before he turned to Keith. “After we learned that part of your heritage hailed from Earth I did a bit of research into the planet and its various civilizations. While alchemical studies died out in just about all civilizations over the years, causing their technology to grow in a way quite different from ours, ancient texts still depict a history of alchemy that, at its most basic stages, followed a research pattern similar to how galran and altean alchemy started out. Ancient humans had even discovered quintessence, and though they knew not how to utilize it to further their research—a primary reason, I suspect, of why alchemy as we know it never took root on Earth—they still had a name for it.”

“And that name was . . . aether?” Keith guessed.

Lotor nodded. “Precisely. So I suggest we name him ‘Aether.’” He looked back to the kid, whose expression was inscrutable. “That way his name bears a little of your heritage, and a little of mine.”

“Earth’s not really ‘my’ heritage,” Keith said. “Just because my father was from there doesn’t mean anything.”

Lotor shrugged. “Still. Do you have any objections to the name?”

Keith looked back to the kid. So far, what Ezor had said about him held true; he hadn’t so much as made a sound. But he was attentive—alert. Any little noise caused him to look over, and even now, his eyes met Keith’s with a gaze that suggested he understood every word being said to him, even if he wouldn’t respond. When Nyx had teleported to him, two quintessence knives had found their way into his hands. He had somehow managed a way to weaponize his own quintessence, as far as Keith could tell. And if he could call upon and manipulate his own like that . . .

“No,” Keith said finally, and he felt his lips twitch as he added, “It’s better than Sasuke Jr., at least.”

“Is not,” Ezor said, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “But . . . I guess it’s okay.”

“‘Prince Aether’ has a nice ring to it,” Acxa said.

Keith frowned. “No one said anything about ‘prince.’”

“He’s yours and Lotor’s son,” Acxa said. “That makes him the prince.”

“He’s not—”

“Biologically, he is.”

Keith clenched his jaw.

“At any rate, I believe the matter is mostly settled, except . . .” Lotor turned back to the kid, who raised his eyebrows when Lotor’s eyes met his once more. “We are planning to call you ‘Aether.’ Is that all right with you?”

The kid was still for a moment, unmoving, though his eyes were bright and Keith could see a little twitch in his jaw that made it look like he was biting the inside of his lip. Finally, he nodded once.

“Then the matter is settled. Aether, please remain in this room. You may take a seat if you wish. Erebus?” Lotor glanced to the winged reptile on his shoulder, who crooned to show he heard. “Remain with him, but do your best not to startle him.”

Erebus chirruped again, and then leaped off Lotor’s shoulder. The moment he launched himself he extended his front legs from his chest, so that by he time he glided to the floor, he was able to scamper across it on four legs.

“I will never get used to seeing him grow his front legs like that,” Zethrid mused, shaking her head.

“Well, he’s not really  _growing_ them,” Ezor said. “He’s more . . . pushing them out, like . . .” She pulled her shoulders back, thrusting her chest forward. “That.”

“Same difference.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith said, as Ezor opened her mouth to argue. She frowned, annoyed at his interruption, but he ignored her to look to Nyx instead. “You’re fine keeping an eye on him, right?”

Nyx yawned, but took a seat beside Aether, her tail swishing along the floor all the same. Keith smiled gratefully. “Thanks.”

After passing the medical tablet to Keith, Acxa had leaned back against the side of one of the chairs. But now that Lotor turned to head toward the door, she pushed off the chair and followed, only pausing long enough to motion for Zethrid and Ezor to follow the rest of them out of the room.

The problem, Keith thought as he crossed the threshold of the lounge to reconvene in the hallway, was that they didn’t have a good place to discuss this. There were plenty of rooms in the castle, sure, but no private ones close to the lounge, and the idea of putting too much distance between them and Aether made him uneasy, and he could tell by the tense set of Lotor’s jaw that Lotor felt the same way. That meant that if they wanted to remain close, they had to stand in the hallway, but while the lounge doors would thankfully shut (something Lotor took advantage of the moment Zethrid and Ezor exited), that wouldn’t stop any of the auxiliary team members from coming across and overhearing them. This wasn’t helped by the fact that the six of them standing in a circle in the hallway made it feel crowded, and would no doubt attract the attention of anyone who came across them. But even with all that considered, this was as good a solution as they were going to get, and Keith knew it, no matter how much he didn’t like it.

The moment the lounge door closed behind Ezor, Lotor said, “We have to keep him.”

“Are you serious?” Keith demanded, and when Lotor nodded, his lips pressed into a hard frown and his eyes just as sharp, Keith said, “We can’t just—”

“You know as well as I do the risk he poses, given who created him,” Lotor interrupted. “But sending him away would be more dangerous than keeping him. At least if he’s here, we can keep an eye on him.”

“And  _he_ can keep an eye on  _us_ ,” Keith said. “Narti, did you pick up on anything in his head when you found him? Anything suspicious?”

Narti hesitated, but only for a tick. She shook her head, and signed,  _“No. I found no trace of an enemy in his mind.”_

“So that’s good, then, right?” Ezor said, and she frowned. “What are you guys talking about, anyway? Who made him? I didn’t read that far in the chart.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Acxa asked, and when Ezor made a face at her, said, “Haggar.” She glanced to Lotor, then, and added, “Respectfully, there’s no one else who would make you this upset.”

Lotor smiled thinly. “As astute as ever, Acxa.”

“But—hold on,” Zethrid said. “We haven’t heard from Haggar in decaphoebs. Not since the Kral Zera. What’s she doing making a kid and dumping him off at Revender for?”

“And she had to have dropped him there,” Ezor said, before Lotor could answer. “That place was shut down, just like we left it. There wasn’t a sign of life there apart from Aether. We checked.”

 _“I did a full scan before we left,”_ Narti signed, her tail swishing back and forth behind her in sharp motions.  _“There were no signs of former High Priestess Haggar or any others on the planet.”_

Lotor closed his eyes. “The witch’s intentions for Aether aren’t clear, but that is why it is imperative we keep him where we can watch him. She created him for some purpose. Whatever that purpose is—”

“Wait, that’s another thing,” Ezor interrupted, and when Lotor glared at her, she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off. But that chart said that Aether is nine decaphoebs old, right? Did Haggar really create him nine decaphoebs ago?”

“No. That is only his physical age. Homunculi can be created at any age and programmed with the knowledge they need to function as such,” Lotor said. “He was created three phoebs ago according to his chart.”

“ _Aww,_ so he’s still little!” Ezor said, beaming. “Well, littl _er_ , kind of. He can act like he’s nine, but he’s really only three phoebs, right? That’s so cute! Weird, but cute.”

“Anyway,” Acxa said, “that still doesn’t answer the question of why he was made in the first place. Haggar leaving him at Revender had to be bait. She wanted us to find him. Why?”

“Spying would be my guess,” Zethrid said, folding her arms. “Which means we should ship him out, right?”

“What? No!” Ezor cried. “Narti said she didn’t find any evidence of that in him, right?” She looked to Narti for confirmation, and when Narti nodded, she said, “See?”

“That doesn’t mean he’s clean. Narti didn’t have enough time to dig deep,” Zethrid said. “I guess if we had her probe a little deeper—”

“He’s only three phoebs old,” Ezor said. “Cut him some slack—”

“He’s as good as nine  _deca_ phoebs, Lotor said—”

“That’s still a  _kid_ —”

“If you’re finished,” Lotor said, raising his voice just enough to be heard. When he saw that he had everyone’s attention again, he said, “As I was saying before, the exact purpose behind Aether’s creation is unclear. However, I intend to find out what it is. The best way to do that is to keep him close, where he can be monitored. We won’t allow him near any sensitive information, so that if he  _is_ intended for spying, he’ll have nothing of import to relay. But if he was created for another purpose, we should be able to glean that by seeing him in action. We have already seen that he can control his quintessence to some extent; that the witch gave him that ability alone is valuable information.”

“Yeah, that seems kind of dangerous,” Ezor said. “It  _was_ his own quintessence, right? Doesn’t he kind of . . . need that to live?”

“It looked like he reabsorbed it when he got rid of the knives,” Keith said. “So long as he doesn’t transfer it, he should be all right.”

“There shouldn’t be much of a need for him to use that trick, anyway,” Acxa said. “It’s not like he’ll be in danger here in the castle.”

“And we’ll keep an eye on him to ensure that no threats arise, from any direction,” Lotor said. “One of us should be with him at all times. If we cannot, Erebus, Nyx, or Kova can fill in the gaps.”

“It better be Nyx,” Keith said. “She can teleport if something goes wrong. Erebus and Kova can watch, but they can’t do much to get him out if something goes south.”

Lotor nodded, and a smile flickered across his lips. “Excellent point. Thank you, Keith.”

Keith returned Lotor’s smile as Acxa said, “If this is all settled, then we should probably get moving. You have the altean delegate meeting in a few doboshes, don’t you?”

Lotor nodded. “Yes. I expect to be summoned to the audience chamber any moment now. Did you have somewhere to be, Acxa?”

“I was going to meet with Dune and a few of the other members of Team One to check the status of the recent relocations, but it can wait,” Acxa said. “If Aether is going to stay here, he’s going to need new clothes. I can run to the mall in Red to get him some.”

“Ooh, shopping trip! I’m coming, too!” Ezor said.

Acxa frowned. “I’m not planning to be there long. I only want to get a few outfits for him.”

“And if you bring  _me_ , we can get a few more,” Ezor said, and she winked as she elbowed Acxa in the ribs. This did nothing to mitigate Acxa’s frown. “Our spending pool will double.”

“Triple it. I’m coming, too,” Zethrid said, and Acxa sighed. “I’ll help pick up some things for the squirt, too. Tripling his wardrobe overnight can’t be a bad thing, can it?”

“I suppose not,” Acxa said, with the air of one who knew fighting was hopeless.

If Zethrid picked up on her tone, she didn’t show it. Instead, she clapped Acxa on the back and said, “Glad to hear it! Besides, I’m sure  _these_ two will appreciate it.” She jerked her thumb Keith and Lotor’s way, grinning as she said, “Consider it like an impromptu baby shower, thrown by three doting aunties for the new dads.”

Keith sighed. “We’re not—”

“Thank you, Zethrid,” Lotor interrupted, and though Keith shot him a  _look_ , Lotor missed it for how he smiled Zethrid’s way. “We appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zethrid said. “Anyway, Acxa, Ezor—let’s get going. Narti, you coming?”

Narti shook her head.  _“I want to look through Aether’s medical file again, to see if there is anything we missed. I also intend to look over the reports from Revender around the time we first started noticing activity there. That may give us a clue as to what former High Priestess Haggar was doing.”_

“I appreciate it, Narti,” Lotor said. Narti inclined her head toward him as Kova, having now wound himself around her neck, purred.

Zethrid, on the other hand, looked less impressed. “Suit yourself. Ezor, Acxa—to the mall!”

“To the mall,” Acxa repeated, with far less enthusiasm. But she caught Keith’s eye as she turned to start down the hallway, and when he gave her a half-smile and shrug, she returned both even as she shook her head.

Ezor lingered behind a moment, her expression speculative before she smiled brightly at Keith and said, “We’ll be back soon with lots of cute stuff for Aether, so give him a hug from us and tell him he has lots of love from his aunties, okay?”

Keith glanced down the hallway, where Zethrid and Acxa were heading toward the Lion hangar and speaking to each other in low voices, before he looked back to Ezor. “You’re going to miss your ride.”

Ezor stuck her tongue out at him, but nonetheless tapped him lightly on his nose.

“We’ll be back soon,” she said, and then turned and ran after Zethrid and Acxa.

Keith watched her run for a tick, taking advantage of the opportunity to take a deep breath and release it. When he turned back, it was just in time to see Narti slip back into the lounge, leaving Keith and Lotor alone in the hallway. Lotor was watching the door where Narti had just left; but after a tick he looked over at Keith, and the moment their eyes met, Keith asked, “Are you really going to try and act like you’re okay with this?”

A wry, humorless smile curled Lotor’s lips. “At which point did I give the impression I was all right with this?”

“The point where you thanked Zethrid for calling us ‘new dads’ and throwing us a baby shower,” Keith said flatly. “We’re not dads. We can’t—”

“We must,” Lotor said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of his own, and after a moment continued in a low voice, “Believe me when I say that this is not something I would have ever expected, nor wanted, to happen. I know full well that child is likely nothing more than another tool the witch is using to interfere with and perhaps even end my life. But the fact remains that he  _is_  a child, and one that shares  _our_ biological makeup. If we are going to keep him here, we will need to care for him. If we are caring for him, then the circumstances being what they are, I do not see what that makes us if not his parents.”

Keith worked his jaw, and turned his eyes to the floor. “I hear what you’re saying,” he said after a moment, “and it makes sense, but I can’t . . . I don’t know where to start with this. I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid.”

“Do you believe I do?” Lotor asked, and he huffed an incredulous laugh. “I’m sure I need not remind you that my examples were Zarkon and the witch herself.”

“You at least  _had_ examples. I’m flying blind,” Keith said.

“Yes,” Lotor agreed, “and said examples were  _Zarkon_ and  _the witch herself_. I assure you that I have no concept of what good parenting looks like.”

“But you do know what  _bad_ parenting looks like,” Keith said. “They showed you what  _not_ to do. So if you do the opposite of them, you’ll be fine.”

Lotor nodded. “A fair point. In that case, so long as I do not force Aether to watch as I raze an entire planet and genocide the people on it, exile him to a planet where those like him are stripped of their personhood and treated like objects and animals, assign him a governess who ‘teaches’ him through torture, strip him of his autonomy and attempt to invade every aspect of his privacy, and-or attempt to murder him and those he loves repeatedly, I’m sure he will turn out just fine.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Keith agreed. They held each other’s gazes for a moment before they both burst out laughing.

Laughing felt real—felt light. It made Keith feel as if everything was going to somehow be all right. And he knew, logically, that it would be—that it  _had_ to be, because they hadn’t come this far, and accomplished this much, for Haggar to be able to bring them down now. But somehow, the fact that there was a  _kid_ in the lounge that he was expected to take care of, that he was expected to  _parent_ , made him feel more apprehensive and lost than any battle ever had. Piloting the Black Lion he could do. Engaging in a sword fight he could do. But raising a kid? How in any reality was he supposed to raise a kid? As his laughter died off, Keith scrubbed a hand up his face and into his hair, and squeezed. He felt the tugging on his roots, and he didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a dream. It was very, very real, and he only had the vaguest idea of what he was supposed to do about it.

“How are we going to do this, Lotor?” he asked, and before Lotor had a chance to answer, continued, “How . . . how . . .” A new thought occurred to him, and he huffed another incredulous laugh as he tossed his hand up and let it fall back to his side. “How am I supposed to explain to Kolivan I have a  _kid_ now?”

Lotor’s lips twitched into a half smile. “I’m honestly not sure, but I wish you the best of luck.”

Keith’s mouth dropped open, and he sputtered incredulously, “The best of—you’re not going to help me?”

“And face the Kolivan Inquisition? Oh no, I think not,” Lotor said. “You’re on your own.”

“Some husband you are,” Keith said, and Lotor laughed again. “And here I thought you meant it when you gave me this sword.”

“I assure you, I did.”

“Then you sho—”

“Your Majesties?”

The sound of Weyr’s voice broke through Keith’s protest, and both he and Lotor looked ‘round to see her standing at the other end of the hall. As she typically did, Weyr looked a little nervous to be interrupting them, but she stood proud in her Team One uniform regardless, her tail swishing around her waist.

Keith wasn’t upset that she had interrupted, but he still couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice as he said, “It’s just ‘Keith,’” at the same time that Lotor said, “Yes?”

“Princess Allura and Lady Romelle of the altean delegation are here to see you,” Weyr said, her eyes flickering between Keith and Lotor as if she wasn’t sure whom she should be speaking to. “They’re in the audience chamber now—should I let them know you’ll be with them in a moment?”

“You can let Kesir know that since she’s on Team Three, messenger duty is  _her_ duty,” Keith said flatly.

“But otherwise, yes. That’s fine, Weyr,” Lotor said.

Weyr’s lips twitched in a hesitant smile that told Keith that she wasn’t going to tell Kesir anything, but she said nothing of the sort before she bowed once and took off in the direction of the audience chamber. Lotor turned back to Keith.

“I suppose I ought to go meet with them,” he said.

“What should we do about Aether?” Keith asked. “I can have Nyx sit with him, but—”

“There is an empty room in the same hall as ours, isn’t there?” Lotor asked. “That can be his. Nyx can wait with him in there, so we won’t have abandoned him in the lounge.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Keith took a deep breath, and released it. “Okay. It’s a plan.”

“It is,” Lotor agreed. He leaned down and pecked his lips against Keith’s. “I’ll see you in the audience chamber once he’s settled.”

Keith smiled faintly. “Yeah. See you then.”

Lotor returned his smile, just as fleeting, and then turned and strode down the corridor. Keith watched him for only a tick before he looked back at the lounge door. Procrastinating wouldn’t change who was waiting for him on the other side of the door. Procrastinating wouldn’t change what the presence of that person  _meant_. And the longer he stood there, waffling in the hallway, the longer Lotor would have to take on Allura, Romelle, and whoever else they’d brought with them (what was Allura’s servant’s name? Corn?) by himself. With that thought steeling him, Keith took one more steadying breath and opened the door to the lounge.

The lounge was mostly as they’d left it. Narti, having evidently left through the door at the opposite end of the room, was absent. Nyx was seated right where he’d left her, and though she looked at the door the moment he opened it, she had been staring down at Aether. Aether was seated as well, though instead of sitting on any of the chairs, the sofa, or even the table, he had chosen to sit on the floor by Nyx’s feet. And Erebus—

“Oh,” Keith said. Erebus was still present, and had been, when Keith entered, hopping around Aether’s feet, as if to entice him into play. But the moment Erebus caught sight of Keith, he retracted his front legs and flapped to perch on the back of the chair. “Erebus, Lotor is—”

Keith didn’t need to finish. The moment he pointed down the hallway, Erebus soared off the back of the chair. He glided easily through the door and arced a sharp left, letting loose a trilling cry to get Lotor’s attention. Lotor was already a good distance down the hallway, but he stopped when Erebus called out to him, and smiled as he turned just so to let Erebus land on his shoulder. Lotor caught Keith’s eye, and they exchanged another smile and nod before Keith looked back to the lounge.

Nyx was watching Aether again, but Aether was watching Keith. Keith swallowed, and tried not to think of how hard it was to do that with how choked his throat suddenly felt.

“All right,” he said, and swallowed again to try to get it to stop feeling so constricted. “We can—let’s get you to your room. We have a room for you.” He cleared his throat to make his voice a little stronger, and when Aether remained seated on the floor, Keith waved one hand to motion for him to stand up. “Come on. I’ll show you where it is.”

Finally, Aether seemed to understand. He pushed himself to his feet, and after a quick aside glance at Nyx, wove his way around the furniture so that he could cross the room to the door. When he neared, Keith reached out to put a hand to his head, to guide him through the door—yet then thought better of it, and stepped aside to let Aether and Nyx exit instead.

“There. Come on, it’s this way,” Keith said. Aether met his eyes, but his only response was a small nod to show that he’d heard. Nyx’s ears, on the other hand, were perked up, and so for her benefit if no other reason, Keith added, “Your room is going to be right next to Lotor’s and mine.” Or at least in the same hallway. Keith couldn’t remember exactly which rooms down there were suitable bedrooms, and which ones were sitting rooms or storage areas.

Aether had no reaction, save to look at Keith for a long tick before he faced forward again. Nyx, on the other hand, ran ahead a few paces before she teleported and vanished completely. As he had in the lounge, Aether started when Nyx teleported, a stumble in his stride; but he didn’t draw knives this time, and after a tick it was as if he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

For the first time in Keith couldn’t remember how long, he felt discontent in the quiet.

In a way, it was nice. Keith didn’t know what to say to Aether. He didn’t know what to  _think_ about Aether, except for the strong part of him that wished that this had never happened and that Aether didn’t exist (and then another part of him, growing stronger by the dobosh, that felt bad that he felt that way to begin with). In that way, the silence was comforting. If Aether wasn’t saying anything, that meant Keith didn’t have to say anything. It was easier that way, less trouble.

But Aether wasn’t . . .  _reacting_  to much of anything. He had been startled when Lotor threw the tablet. He had been startled—and threatened, or defensive—when Nyx teleported suddenly in front of him. But when Keith had entered the lounge, it hadn’t looked like Aether was responding to Erebus’ attempts to play with him. He hadn’t shown a smile or a scowl to anything said to him. And even now, as they made their way down and through the corridors, he wasn’t paying any special attention to anything around him. He’d never been in the Castle of Lions before, but he wasn’t showing any reaction to the lights along the ceiling or the paneling in the walls, or any curiosity about any of the doors they passed. He just stared straight ahead and kept walking. If Haggar had made him as a spy, he wasn’t doing a very good job of spying. And Keith wasn’t complaining about that, but . . .

He cast a glance down at Aether, who was still staring straight down the corridor, still clothed in Revender grey. He swallowed again, and turned his own eyes forward once more.

He wasn’t complaining, but that didn’t make the silence comfortable.

But silence it was, and when they finally reached his and Lotor’s hall, Nyx was waiting by one of the doors. It wasn’t directly next to his and Lotor’s room (it was one door over instead), but now that he thought on it, that was probably for the best. The walls in the castle were reasonably thick, but that didn’t mean they wanted a risk of him overhearing any sensitive discussions, just in case he did turn out to be a spy. Keith smiled at Nyx as they neared, and her tail swished slowly in response.

“This the one, then?” he asked. She bobbed her head once in an affirmative, and he patted her head. “Thanks, Nyx.”

She bumped her head against his hand before she focused her eyes on Aether once more.

“All right. This is your room,” Keith said, and he glanced down at Aether to make sure he heard. When Aether’s eyes met his, Keith placed his hand against the keypad (a keypad that he thought looked a little out of Aether’s reach, which was something he and Lotor would need to discuss) and opened the door.

The room was, in a word, spartan. It contained one bed along the left wall, a nightstand near the bed, and a wardrobe in the back. The lights flared to life the moment they entered, and though Aether blinked a few times for his eyes to adjust, he otherwise took in the room as calmly as he had everything else. The one change, Keith noted, was that Aether at least looked around the room this time. He entered slowly, his eyes roving across the ceiling and turning in a small circle as he surveyed the room, and when he’d finally taken in everything (not that there was very much to take in), he stopped in the middle and looked back at Keith.

Keith cleared his throat.

“I, uh—I have to go to a meeting. With Lotor. And . . . some other people,” he said. “So Nyx is going to stay here with you, okay?” Before he even finished speaking Nyx strode past him to go lay down by the bed, her head still raised and her eyes focused on Aether. “Just let her know if you need anything.”

The tick the words left his mouth, Keith knew they were ridiculous. Aether hadn’t said a word the entire time they’d known each other, and according to Ezor, he hadn’t said anything at Revender or in the Lion on the way back, either. Even now, he just stared back at Keith, and once again, Keith felt an odd feeling jump in his chest when his and Aether’s eyes met.

He pushed it away.

“Let me know if anything comes up,” he said, and he shot a glance Nyx’s way to let her know  _that_ was mostly for her. She nodded once to show she understood, and with the message conveyed, Keith stepped back out into the hall and let the door shut behind him.

A chilled feeling slipped down his spine. He rolled his shoulders to dislodge it.

He had to get to the delegates meeting. It had already been about ten doboshes; he didn’t know if Princess Allura, Romelle, or Corn were gossips or not, but if they were, he could only imagine what would get spread around about the Emperor Consort of the Galra Empire being late to a delegate meeting. Then again . . .

He glanced down at himself, heaved an irritated sigh, and hung a left to head into his and Lotor’s bedroom.

Being late was one thing. Showing up late  _and_ in paladin armor when the subject of the meeting was how they wanted the Lions back and Keith was saying  _no_ would only make the situation ten times worse, and he knew it even without Lotor and everyone else pointing it out.

He shucked off his top the moment he strode into the room and tossed it on the bed on his way to the wardrobe. In honesty, he didn’t know what kind of clothing  _was_ appropriate for a meeting like this. He didn’t think the armor that he and Lotor had crafted for each other and exchanged on their wedding day after saying their vows would work; Lotor hadn’t worn his (though he had worn the engagement sword Keith had given him around his waist, just as Keith kept the one Lotor had proposed with at his side at all times), and it was a bit heavy for a delegate’s meeting, anyway. Battle armor was clearly out of the question, if his paladin armor wasn’t appropriate. But he didn’t think casual wear was right, either, and even if it was, the thought made his skin prickle unpleasantly. They were having this meeting as potential allies. Keith knew that. But the word  _potential_ existed for a reason, and that reason was that they  _weren’t_ allies just yet.

Ultimately, he ended up choosing something similar to what Lotor had worn: an outfit that looked non-threatening enough on the outside, layered in nice fabric of dark red and black, but bearing enough defensive padding that—while not obvious from a glance and not enough to sustain a serious battle—he’d be protected in a pinch. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror inside the wardrobe door before he closed it, and turned to head out of the room to the meeting . . .

. . . before he was struck by a thought so suddenly he didn’t even realize what it was at first, only that it was enough to make him pause and glance back at the wardrobe. After a moment, he opened it again.

He hadn’t thought about the chest in—in decaphoebs, at least. The wardrobe he shared with Lotor wasn’t just big enough for them to share; it also had a storage space in the bottom, accessed by lifting the “floor” of the wardrobe up, and then pressing your fingers along the sides. Inside the storage space they kept items that were . . . they weren’t “valuables” in the traditional sense. They weren’t worth money. But they were sentimental, or important for some reason or another most wouldn’t understand. Among their stored valuables was a large metal chest. And that chest was what Keith pulled out of the wardrobe and set on the floor now, and after giving his heart a moment to settle out of its nervous palpitations, he turned the lock and then pressed his thumb against it.

It opened with a soft  _click_.

He had received the chest from Kolivan decaphoebs ago, when they had first . . . reunited, Keith guessed, but for him it was like a first meeting. Everything in the chest was his, Kolivan had said. It had  _been_ his, before he’d been lost. Keith didn’t remember ever having any of these things. He had tried; he had held them, looked over them, and sometimes he had felt like he was close. Some of the things made him . . .  _feel_ things, like his heart was touched by water that kept slipping through his mind’s fingers. But ultimately, the items in the chest were from a life Keith felt didn’t really belong to him. He had taken the chest, because Kolivan had wanted him to have it, but for decaphoebs now it had sat in the bottom of the wardrobe because he honestly didn’t know what to do with it.

But now he did, at least for one of the things. The largest item in the chest was a yupper plush, and it was this plush that tugged on Keith’s heart the most. When Kolivan had handed it to him back then, it had . . . somehow, the soft, faux fur had felt . . .  _familiar_ to Keith’s fingers, even though he couldn’t remember ever holding a plush toy in his life, and the scent of it had been so . . . so  _comforting_ that he’d hugged it before he’d realized what he was doing. It was embarrassing; even now he could remember how Kolivan had smiled, and how his own cheeks had burned at what he’d done. The yupper plush had gone back into the chest after that, and there it had stayed. But now he pulled it out again, squeezing it between his fingers, the faded faux fur still a comfort against his skin. It was his, or at least it had been, but now . . .

Keith closed the chest and put it back in the wardrobe. He shut the wardrobe door behind him, and with the yupper plush in hand, exited his room so that he could knock twice on Aether’s door.

“Aether?” he called, and though he didn’t expect a response, he listened for one anyway. None came. “I’m coming in.”

The door slid open to allow him entrance. The lights were still on, and Nyx was in the same position she had been before, reclining comfortably by the bed. But Aether—

Keith blinked, bemused.

Aether was still in the middle of the room. The good news was that he was no longer standing. The strange news was that he was seated in the middle of the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. He looked up at Keith as Keith entered, his eyes alert under his fringe, but otherwise didn’t move. Nyx, for her part, didn’t budge either.

“You don’t have to sit on the floor,” Keith said, and when Aether continued to stare at him, he nodded his head to the bed. “You can sit on the bed, or lay on it if you want.”

Aether remained where he was. It had struck Keith as odd that Aether hadn’t sat on any of the furniture in the lounge, but Keith had figured that was maybe because Aether felt he wasn’t allowed. But this was  _his room_ ; that was  _his bed_. There was no reason why he wouldn’t be allowed to sit on it.

But as Keith’s eyes trailed back to the grey facility clothing Aether was wearing, he realized . . . it was stupid of him. He should have realized it before. There was no reason Aether couldn’t use his own bed, but considering where Ezor and the others had found him—considering what he was  _wearing_ —there was good reason to believe  _he_ didn’t know that.

“C’mere,” Keith said, and he walked over to drop onto the bed himself. Aether watched him, his eyes never leaving Keith as Keith entered the room. Keith patted the spot beside him on the bed. “Come here, hop on. It’s better than the floor.”

Aether watched him for a tick longer, as if waiting for something more, before he got to his feet and crossed the room. He didn’t hop onto the bed right away. Instead, he slowly brushed his hands over the bedspread, blinking and pressing his lips together as he felt the fabric beneath his palms. Then, with another glance at Keith as if to make sure it was all right, he climbed up onto the bed.

“So?” Keith asked, once Aether was situated on the bed next to him. “What do you think?”

Predictably, Aether didn’t answer. But unlike before, Keith felt that he didn’t have to. Instead of looking at him, Aether was staring at the bed; he kept running his hands over the top blanket, and after a tick, he bounced a little on the mattress. Like all other standard mattresses in the castle, it was a bit springy. Aether’s mouth opened a little in surprise, the corners of his lips twitching just slightly. He didn’t smile, and once he looked back and met Keith’s eyes his expression fell into the same neutral set it had been before, but . . . for a moment, it was close.

“You can sit or sleep here,” Keith said, and he patted the pillow on his other side. “You can lay your head on this, and if you crawl under the blanket—” he lifted the edge to show what he meant, “—you can keep warm.”

Aether considered the pillow and the blanket for a moment before he looked back to Keith and nodded once.

“And—here. I, uh—I brought you this.” Keith held the yupper plush out to Aether, and when Aether didn’t move to take it, he shook it a little to show what he meant. With even more hesitation than he’d shown the bedspread, Aether slowly took the yupper plush from Keith’s hand, and held it in a gentle, tentative grasp. “It used to be mine, but you can have it. I think you’ll get more use out of it than me.”

Aether made no sign that he’d heard Keith. He gently turned the yupper plush this way and that, examining it from all different angles. When he’d finished, he ran his hands over its surface, his fingers flexing in the faux fur as he tested its texture. He squeezed it gently, and his eyes widened a little as he did, as if he’d never seen or felt anything like it before.

In all likelihood, he probably hadn’t.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, Aether examining the yupper plush while Keith looked at Aether. He hadn’t looked at Aether very closely before, he guessed. He had  _looked_ at him, but he hadn’t really  _seen_ him. He hadn’t appreciated the fact that although his ears were pointed like Lotor’s, they were a bit smaller, and when Aether had gasped in muted surprise about how bouncy the bed was, Keith caught sight of what looked like two fangs along his upper row of teeth. And even now, as he bent his head a little to get a closer look at the plush toy he held in his hands, his hair fell down across his face. It was short, and choppy, but bright white, the same color as Lotor’s. Without thinking, Keith put his hand atop Aether’s head.

Aether jumped under his touch, and looked up at him with startled eyes. Keith drew his hand back, but as their eyes met, he felt his heart jolt again, and this time he knew why.

He hadn’t—he didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it before. It was so—he wanted to smack himself in the forehead for not realizing it before. But he realized now, as they stared at one another, that the reason it felt so strange to look Aether in the eye was that while he had Lotor’s hair (down to the texture), his fangs, and even his ears, to an extent . . . his eyes were Keith’s own.

Aether was still staring at him. Keith returned his hand to his lap, and after a moment stood up from the bed.

“I’ve . . . still gotta go to that meeting,” he said. “I’ll—we’ll probably be back to check on you after. Just let Nyx know if you need anything. She’ll know what to do.”

Aether said nothing. Keith glanced back when he reached the door, just in time to see Aether look down at the yupper plush in his hands again. With that offering him a bit of relief for reasons he didn’t understand, he nodded toward Nyx as a way of goodbye and then exited the room.

By this time, he was probably at least twenty doboshes late, and maybe more if anyone needed anything from him on his way to the audience chamber. There was a chance that the meeting would even be done by the time he got there, though he doubted even Lotor could talk the alteans down that fast. (He also wondered if Lotor wanted to talk them down at all; Lotor wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their hard-won revolution, but he was confident in Sincline, and there was also the fact that the alteans were supposed to be part of the federation, and . . . it was complicated in the exact way that made Keith hate politics.) But even so, he lingered by the door for a moment before he started down the hall, his fingers playing around the hilt of the sword Lotor had given him on the planet Aulbryn decaphoebs ago.

They had a . . . they had Aether now. Biologically, thanks to Haggar’s alchemy, he was their . . . he was related to them. And he—there was so much about him they didn’t know, and Keith didn’t even know if they could figure out. He understood language, but he didn’t seem able to talk. They could teach him to sign; they had all learned so that it would be easier to talk with Narti when they weren’t in their Lions or wearing their helmets, but—

As if on cue, a loud meow interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Narti walking toward him, Kova on her shoulder, and he smiled.

“Hey, Narti. Find anything in your scans?”

Narti shook her head, and dipped it regretfully.  _“Not yet,”_ she signed,  _“but I will look more into it later.”_

Keith shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s more important that we focus on the present and the future. We have Aether now; we just have to move forward with him.”

Narti nodded, but her shoulders were hunched and she hesitated as she raised her hands again. Keith furrowed his brow; it was just like how she’d hesitated earlier, and though he’d let it go then . . .

Narti gestured to her own chest.  _“I wanted to speak with you. About Aether.”_

It seemed he didn’t have to press. Keith folded his arms across his chest. “What about him?”

 _“When I tapped into his mind on Revender, in order to subdue him . . .”_ Narti faced away, her head bowed, but before Keith could press further, she lifted her head again and continued.  _“I noticed something.”_

“Okay . . .” Keith said slowly. “What was it?”

 _“It was not anything . . . bad.”_ Despite her words, her tail drooped low, curled around her ankles.  _“There was nothing to suggest former High Priestess Haggar’s presence or intentions, however . . .”_

“What?” Keith fought to keep the impatience from his voice, knowing that it would do nothing to help her, but when she hesitated again, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing, “Come on, just tell me. You know I won’t get mad.”

Narti nodded, but also shrugged in the way she sometimes did when she knew she wasn’t going to like what happened next, but had already accepted it was going to happen.  _“Aether’s mind was not . . . ‘normal’.”_ She spread her hands wide and cupped them to exaggerate the word, ensuring that he knew that wasn’t the word she  _wanted_ to use, but that it was the only one she could find.  _“Most people have memories and thoughts that can be sifted through. Aether did not.”_

Keith felt a hot flash along the back of his neck; his heart picked up speed in response. “What do you mean?”

 _“I could not access any memories or feel any intentions from Aether while I was tapped into his mind. I am sure he has some. He must. But I could not access them. It felt that there was a wall,”_ her shoulders slumped,  _“similar to your mind, for your memories prior to Revender.”_

It made sense, now, why she’d been so reluctant. The one time she had tried to help him get past that “wall” and recover his memories, it hadn’t gone well to say the least. “I see.”

 _“The difference,”_ Narti signed, and she raised her shoulders again, the tip of her tail curling this way and that,  _“is that you have certain memories that cannot be accessed. For Aether, it’s everything.”_

Keith frowned. “Do you think you could get past it if you had more time?”

Narti shook her head.  _“I am not sure. I would not want to hurt him.”_

Keith chewed the inside of his cheek. “We need to make sure  _he_ doesn’t want to hurt  _us_.”

Narti tilted her head to the side.  _“I do not believe he can. He is very small. I caught him in less than one dobosh.”_ She held her index finger and thumb very close together to illustrate the point.

Keith’s lips twitched. “Still.”

Kova purred, illustrating that Narti shared in his humor, even if the way her shoulders shook with silent, soft laughter didn’t do that well enough. But whatever humor Keith felt was fleeting; he didn’t know what to do with this new information that Narti couldn’t read Aether, just like he didn’t know what to do about anything  _else_ regarding Aether, but it was enough to make him feel tired despite it being so early in the day still. He sighed, and scrubbed his hands down his face before he looked back at Narti.

“Well, thanks for letting me know,” he said, and Narti nodded. “We’ll have to figure out what to do about this, but I don’t know where to start.”

 _“We will figure it out,”_ Narti signed, and she leaned forward in earnest.  _“We all will. Aether may be yours and Lotor’s son, but that makes him our family, too. We will all help. I am sure that is what Ezor and Zethrid were trying to say, underneath the teasing.”_

Underneath the stress, the confusion, and everything else, Keith felt a surge of warmth that he often felt in Narti’s presence. He smiled. “Thanks.”

Narti nodded.  _“Of course.”_

“But . . .” Narti tilted her head as he trailed off, and seeing that she was waiting for a response, he asked, “Why didn’t you say anything earlier, when I asked?”

Once again, Narti faced away, but only for a moment before she looked back to him and signed,  _“I thought it would be best to speak with you privately first because of how upset Lotor was about former High Priestess Haggar’s involvement. He did a good job reeling it in after his initial outburst, but I could still sense his anger when we were talking in the hallway. Given how upset he was, I did not think he would be entirely rational if I shared what I found just then. So I thought it best to wait.”_

Keith sighed. “Yeah. Probably a good call. I’ll bring it up to him later, when he’s in a better mood.”

Narti nodded.  _“That, too, is likely a good call.”_ She paused, and then signed,  _“I’m keeping you from the delegates meeting, aren’t I?”_

Keith blinked. “Oh. Yeah. But I was late anyway, and this was important, so it’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

Narti nodded.  _“Okay. I won’t.”_

Keith laughed, and Narti’s shoulders shook as she silently laughed with him, before she waved and started to walk past him. But as she did, another thought occurred to Keith, and he called, “Wait—one more thing.”

Narti turned back, and when he saw he had her attention, Keith asked, “Just now—you called Lotor by his name twice just now. Why don’t you ever do that to his face? You know he wants you to drop the title.”

Narti tilted her head, her tail swishing up and around her in happy twists as she signed,  _“Am I not allowed to tease like everyone else?”_

Keith grinned, and raised one hand in a wave. Narti returned it, Kova purring loudly again, before they parted ways.

All jokes and teasing aside, there was too much going on for his smile to last for long. He believed Narti’s reassurance that they would figure things out, because they always did. But with the knowledge now that Haggar was still active, and without any information on  _where_ or  _why_ or  _how_ or  _what_ she was planning, on top of everything else . . .

Keith stopped, and took a deep breath outside the doors to the audience chamber. He could hear muffled voices on the other side. He gripped the hilt of the sword Lotor had given him.

One thing at a time. He had to focus on one thing at a time. First was this delegates meeting. Next was . . . he didn’t know. That could wait. One thing at a time, focus on the present. Lotor was the future, and Keith was the present. That was how they’d gotten through everything before, and that was how they would get through this now.

That thought steeling him, Keith opened the door and entered the audience chamber.

 

**Author's Note:**

> > “I’m afraid I have to agree with Keith. He cannot be our son, no matter the resemblance. It’s impossible,” Lotor said, and Keith felt a sense of relief that at least someone in the room was speaking sense. “Neither of us are miralean, Ezor.”
> 
> I decided a little while ago that the other half of Ezor's heritage would be a race of people known as miraleans. Miraleans are most notable for being able to cloak and disguise themselves, but another factoid about them is that they reproduce through same-sex relations. Ezor was quite startled to learn this was not the case for galra.
>
>> “Ooh, I saw an Earth anime about those once,” Ezor said.
> 
> Ezor visited the Earth store in the space mall in order to get things to help Keith "learn about his culture" after they discovered he was part-human from Earth. Anime DVDs were among the items she bought, thinking they were accurate representations of humanity. Keith didn't like them very much, but Ezor was a big fan.
>
>> “Some husband you are,” Keith said, and Lotor laughed again. “And here I thought you meant it when you gave me this sword.”  
> [. . .]  
> He didn’t think the armor that he and Lotor had crafted for each other and exchanged on their wedding day after saying their vows would work . . .
> 
> Galra tradition stipulates that when one wants to propose to another, they forge a weapon to present as the betrothal gift. Lotor forged a sword and gave it to Keith, who accepted (read: Two Lives, Intertwined). As per tradition, Keith forged a sword himself at a later date and gave it to Lotor as official confirmation of his acceptance of the proposal, and his own desire to marry. The tradition is as such because the forging of a weapon is extremely personal, not just because it makes the weapon one-of-a-kind, but because devoting that much time and care into a weapon forging means pouring your heart and soul into it. Moreover, if you forge it yourself, it's _yours_ , so giving the sword to the one you love is symbolic. It means, "I give you my sword; I will fight for and beside you every step."
> 
> Prior to the wedding ceremony, tradition continues that each person forge armor for their betrothed. During the ceremony, they exchange the armor. The armor, too, is symbolic; you are not only giving someone your weapon for them to fight with, but you're giving them armor to protect them, and again, it's armor you personally crafted. It's deeply personal. Neither person sees the armor they'll be presented with prior to the wedding, so there's an old adage that the more the two sets of armor match (in terms of style, colors, et cetera), the better suited the two are for each other. Lotor's and Keith's went together perfectly.


End file.
